Book by Tina Landau. Music and lyrics by Adam Guettel. Directed by Peter Jorgensen. Produced by Patrick Street Productions and Talk Is Free Theatre. At the York Theatre on Thursday, March 13. Continues until March 30

Watching this musical about a caver trapped underground, I felt like I was trapped in the theatre—at least for much of Act 1.

Floyd Collins is based on an event that sparked America’s first media frenzy. In 1925, 37-year-old Collins went exploring underground in Kentucky and was pinned by falling rock in a narrow passage. A newspaperman named William “Skeets” Miller managed to squeeze his way down to the imprisoned man, and for the next two weeks, he reported on the adventurer’s deteriorating mental and physical states. Miller’s articles were instantly syndicated, and as Collins’s life faded below, on the surface, thousands gathered in a festival of voyeurism and opportunism, balloons and carnival food.

It’s a dramatic—but static—setup. In most musicals, the songs take us into the emotional underpinnings of the action. But in Act 1 of Floyd Collins, Floyd’s just stuck and the songs take us into the abstract interiors of thought—Floyd’s and others’. We get songs about Floyd’s ambition (to make tourist dollars on his find), the proper role of a man (shouldn’t we all be farmers?), fantasized love, the importance of family, and so on. But who cares? At too great a remove from action—and consequences—ideas dry up. Remarkably, in this production at least, there’s very little sense of the terror the real situation must have provoked.

Besides, a whole lot of Adam Guettel’s music is rhythmically repetitive and melodically boring: its dissonance sounds like ersatz avant-garde.

Fortunately, the material improves in Act 2. That’s when fame tempts Floyd’s family and others. By promising him a film career, a movie producer coaxes Floyd’s brother Homer, who is fiercely loyal to Floyd, to overact his emotional response. Springing directly from unfolding conflict—at last—more songs acquire heft.

Act 1 contains the occasional number that’s tunefully accessible: “Heart an’ Hand”, which is sung by Floyd’s father and stepmother, for instance. But Act 2’s successes are more consistent. “The Ballad of Floyd Collins”, a folk melody introduced in the first act is more fully explored in the second. And “The Dream”, in which Floyd fantasizes release, is both musically and conceptually satisfying: in this case, Floyd’s interior world is compellingly dramatized.

As Floyd, Daren Herbert strains slightly in his upper register but he’s impressively at home with the musical’s insanely difficult intervals. Michael Torontow shines as Homer: the guy delivers a moving performance and stays pitch-perfect while doing it. Krystin Pellerin plays Nellie, Floyd’s mentally ill sister. As conceived in Tina Landau’s book, the character is annoyingly romanticized as a loony savant, but Pellerin’s performance is honest and her singing clear.

Peter Jorgensen has directed an extremely handsome physical production. Amir Ofek’s wooden set manages to be both rustic and elegant. And Jeff Harrison’s lighting design is stellar—sometimes literally.

A lot of love has been lavished on this piece and a heap of skill has gone into it, but you’ve still got to sit through a long Act 1 to get to Act 2.